Quidditch Ties
by willowbabe
Summary: Post D/H. Based on the artwork of ReallyCorking. "Harry gulped nervously, as his fiancée stalked towards him, broom in hand and with a strange glint in her eye. "


**Quidditch Ties**

A Fanfiction by Willowbabe

Based on the art work of Really Corking

(check it out here http:// community dot livejournal dot com/corkart/24678 dot html)

* * *

Harry always knew that he was a pervert.

"Potter!"

Harry gulped nervously, as his fiancée stalked towards him, broom in hand and with a strange glint in her eye.

There was a streak of mud trailing from her cheek down past her ear to the hollow of her neck, and droplets of sweat glistened on her brow. The leather belt, used to keep the Quidditch robes from flapping around had slipped down, causing it to emphasise her curvy hips, slim waist, and creating a slight gape at her chest. Her blazing red hair was falling out of its ponytail, and the headband that she used to keep her bangs out of her eyes during the match had proved useless, as stray bits were escaping in all directions.

He gulped again, feeling the already familiar twinges of arousal start to increase. His left hand moved up to his throat, loosing his tie and opening his top button. Too often around Ginny, he felt like this; hot and bothered and as if he couldn't breathe. But in a good way of course.

"You're late Potter!" She growled menacingly, as she drew nearer, reminding Harry of the way she growled whenever he sucked lightly on that sacred hollow of her neck. The same neck that was currently covered in deliciously dirty mud.

"I wasn't late. I'm on duty. All of us trainee Aurors got pulled in to cover security after an incident within the MLES. Ron's here somewhere too. We were at the debriefing earlier. I swear, Ginny, I saw the entire match. I just wasn't in the family box. I've been watching from here the whole time instead." He held his breath as she drew closer, dropping her broomstick to the floor.

"The Britain and Ireland Quidditch League Cup Final, which I am playing in for the first time, and you're late!" She hissed grabbing the lapels on his robes and pushing him back against the wall. She followed that movement by taking another step towards him, leaving only a few inches between their bodies.

Images of her slim body, naked and writhing beneath him, skin glistening like it was now, filled his mind. His fingers ached to grab her arse and pull her up against him, to allow her to feel his heated arousal. "I wasn't late. I saw the entire match. I was watching you the whole time."

"My own fiancé! Late at what is one of the most important matches I will ever play in my entire life." She stood on her toes, tilting her head upwards to their faces were inches from each other.

"You look so hot right now!" Harry blurted out, giving in to all the thoughts that had been running through his head, since he first saw her mount the broom three hours earlier. Watching her grip the broom tightly between her thighs, to enable her to manage a difficult pass requiring both hands. Watching the way her hands caressed the handle, firmly but with enough care and control to make a man go mad. Watching her bite her lip nervously, as a fellow Harpy took what ended up being the deciding penalty in a thoroughly tormenting match.

Before she could say another word about his lateness, Harry pulled her towards him; one hand cupped her arse brazenly, pulling her close so that she could feel her burning effect, while the other hand tangled itself in her hair, enabling him to kiss her deeply, without allowing her the chance to break the kiss and begin yelling again. He could feel the mud on her cheek spreading to his face, and her lips were chapped from all the flying. He wanted to devour her. He just couldn't get enough of her.

Breaking free of the kiss was hard, but eventually they had to come up for air. His hands had wandered to caress her neck and thighs and chest; any part really that he'd been able to access at that time. Her fingers were still gripping tightly onto the front of his robes, and her breath was coming in short pants. She leaned against him, her breasts crushed against his chest, her forehead hitting his glasses and leaving small smears of mud on the lenses.

He wanted to apparate her away, back to their flat and see just how much more mud they could share with each other.

Yes, Harry decided, he was a complete and utter pervert. She let her grip on his robes loosen and with one hand reached in and grabbed his tie, pulling him down so that his ear was level with her lucious swollen lips.

"Is that a beater's bat in your pocket," She whispered huskily "or are you just pleased to see me?"

But then she was a pervert too.


End file.
